Story by R.S. Dawgstein

---

Diary of a Zebra: Stories

The party wound down while I assisted the bartender in keeping the final round of drinks flowing to two staff members, an elephantine television producer and his spotty jaguar escort.

They sat in various chairs surrounding my employer, Puff Odocoil. Seated upon a retro ottoman stool, the fashion Maven, avant-garde performance artist and publisher held center position like a centerpiece campfire.

Eyes glowing green in the artfully dimmed lighting, the rapt audience's attention was pinned by an old story about early student days. How the cervine kept misery at bay by watching a Television series regarding a high fashion model star and her fancy, but often deadly parties. An expression of sad longing combine with envy and desire struck a chord with me as I approached with the final glass of the evening.

The party ended. The guests departed, maids cleaning up while my steady hand guided an unsteady cervine to their chambers. Expression drifting off once again to that same distant look.

A look I often saw on someone else long ago. In my youth as a teen zebra colt, I sometimes skipped school with a friend. Often taking the subway to the theatre district. His name was T. Jones, a german shepherd who had a knack for talking his way into almost anything. I recall being envious of my canine friend's ability to establish rapport with almost anyone, be they herbivore or carnivore.

We often hung around the stage entrances. T. Jones totally at ease, tail slowly wagging, exuding a cool demeanor while I broadcasted a gawky, wide eyed equine expression. And at random, he'd managed to strike up conversations with Stage workers, the Janitor, prop hands or once, two very exotic chorus dancers; a towering hyena lady and her giraffe colleague. We often got invited back stage to watch the shows being set up.

Afterwards, on the subway back to our borough, he would look at billboards advertising the latest Paw'dway play or Television show with that same sad longing, combined with envy and desire. Saying in a distant voice how he would like to one day be watching Television and see himself staring back.

"Aidan! What are you dreaming of?"

My own inner rapport was interrupted by Puff's query as we arrived in the cervine's chambers.

"Oh? I was thinking of your story of blissfully watching that Television series and I happened to think of my own past."

I spoke of myself and Mr. T. Jones.

When I finished, Puff nodded thoughtfully, "Did you, like your friend, want to be famous on Television?"

"Mr. Jones wanted to see himself performing on Television," I replied. "My desires were more mundane. I thought being a newscaster was fame enough."

I couldn't help but think of T. Jones. He is now a notable Opera singer and actor who just this year played Manrico in the Metropoultryton Opera's production of Verdi's Il Doevatore. A production recently shown on PBS.

Puff sighed, "Ah, you two wanted the Stage. For me it was the impossible..."

Sprawling onto the bed, green eyes aglow, "I wanted to *live* in that world, " Puff paused and gestured at the room and surroundings. "And never return to this..."

---

PREV | NEXT >>>